


Komorebi

by mew_tsubaki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: & plenty of implied ships, M/M, Saru has a moment to be salty too lol, cameos from others - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 20:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14362746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mew_tsubaki/pseuds/mew_tsubaki
Summary: It's fall, and Sarukui is caught one time too many staring at the leaves.





	Komorebi

**Author's Note:**

> The Haikyuu! characters belong to Furudate Haruichi-sensei, not to me. Some love for the other Fukurodani ship that's practically canon. ;D Read, review, and enjoy!

"The leaves are finally starting to change color," Komi remarked as he steered his bike to a stop in front of Sarukui's gigantic house.

Sarukui, who'd already been standing outside for a few minutes admiring the large ginkgo on the corner of his block (technically on his family's property), glanced at his friend and shrugged. "It's autumn. They do that, eventually."

"Yeah, but September's nearly gone," Komi continued. He leaned back in the bike seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest, wrinkling his white oxford. It wasn't cool enough to warrant both the school blazer and sweater yet, but Sarukui would bet money Komi had his sweater balled up in his backpack. "Guess the season's starting late."

He wasn't wrong. Usually the ginkgoes were well on their way to that beautiful, warm, gold color only they produce by now. Instead, Sarukui noted with one last look at the tree before he steadied himself on the back of Komi's bike, the ginkgo was that sickly yellow–green, stuck in the middle of its shift, stuck in the middle of changing from being something commonplace to something—something remarkable.

"Hold on tight," the libero quipped, his usual way of letting Sarukui know they were about to take off. Not the best command, given Sarukui leaned on rather than clutched Komi's shoulders as they rode to school.

They sped down through the streets, always under the speed limit and sometimes not on the bike, when they were wary of catching the cops' eye and getting scolded. But, when the coast was clear, Komi jerked his chin for Sarukui to get back on, and the scenery went back to flying by, the wind, back to dancing through their hair.

Sarukui glanced down at the top of Komi's head a few times, and he resisted the urge to run a hand through Komi's hair when they arrived to make it look less windblown.

The season might be late, but at least one autumn color was on full display, the dark-haired wing spiker mused as they headed into school.

* * *

The following day, at lunch, Sarukui sat outside on one of the benches by the boys' soccer field. He rested his head on the back of the bench, looking upside–down at the trees behind him. The school, like most of everywhere else in Tokyo, had maples dotting the grounds, but this time Sarukui wasn't mesmerized by the hues. The maples were being slow to change, too, so instead he focused on the specific shadows the leaves cast. Where leaves couldn't obscure, light speckled whatever it fell on—the fence, the ground, the back of the bench, half of Sarukui's face.

" _There_ you are, Saru."

Sarukui blinked. He wasn't expecting Komi to come find him, but mostly he was surprised by how loud his friend's voice could be in the relative quiet out here beside the school building.

He slowly sat up, but not before another group of distinct shadows fells over his face behind the bench, this time cast by the fluffy spikes of Komi's barely kempt hair. He caught Komi's victorious grin out of the corner of his eye before he straightened up and Komi walked around to the front of the bench.

"What's up?"

"Lunch is halfway over, and I was on my way to the vending machines. _Also_ looking for you," the libero added, sort of as an afterthought. Instead of sitting beside Sarukui properly, he climbed onto the bench, sitting on the back, his hip bumping Sarukui's shoulder, his feet planted beside Sarukui's empty bento.

"I got waylaid on the way back from the bathroom," Sarukui supplied. "Had to help Tsuka-sensei carry easels to the art room." He furrowed his brow. "Anyone else would've asked I carry the rolls of canvas. She came so close to dropping them on her feet."

Komi sat a little straighter. "Tsuka-sensei, huh?"

Sarukui nodded, realizing his mistake too late. Hell.

"Man, she's so pretty… And carrying rolls of canvas?" Komi hummed appreciatively and opened the chocolate milk he'd bought before finding the other boy. "I always thought the new art teacher was a slip of a thing, but she's actually quite strong, huh?" He nudged Sarukui's arm with his leg, and he waggled his eyebrows when Sarukui met his eyes.

It wasn't as if Sarukui hadn't experienced this before, and he doubted it'd be the last. Komi had an eye for the ladies, even if he never did anything about it. And Sarukui didn't begrudge him it.

Instead, he reclined, leaning his head on the bench's back again, enjoying a softer breeze compared to yesterday's gusts toying with his dark brown curls. He enjoyed, too, Komi's shadow falling over him when his friend repeated himself to make sure Sarukui was listening.

* * *

Yamiji-sensei's stare was like a shove to the back of the head. And it was enough to snap Sarukui out of his trance as a quick break during practice ended, so the spiker closed his water bottle, returned it to Suzumeda as he passed by the second-year manager, and lined up on the court, waiting to join Team A or Team B for a practice match amongst themselves.

But, while Sarukui was back on the court, his mind lingered outside the gym doors, half noting the favor nature had done him, getting back into the fall season with a palette change that only took two days to implement, and half lingering on thoughts that he entertained quite often, sometimes actively, sometimes absentmindedly.

When Yamiji-sensei rounded out Team B's roster with Komi and Sarukui, Komi held up his hands for double high-fives, which Sarukui happily obliged. And Komi, in a bout of silliness, briefly threaded his fingers through Sarukui's.

But that only made Sarukui's daydreams go into overdrive.

On one side of the net, Sarukui and Komi joined Washio, Bokuto, Mori, and that other first-year middle blocker who wasn't Onaga, Hige.

On that same side of the net, Sarukui thought back to more than two years ago, when Komi was lucky enough to be the only other libero back then and so got to participate in all practice matches at home and away, while Sarukui stood off to the sides, hoping for a taste of the action but doubting he'd get as much as, say, Konoha or Bokuto, because Sarukui had only started playing volleyball when he started Fukurodani.

Lucky for him, Sarukui was a faster learner, a trait he shared with his parents, who came from old money made all the smart ways possible. So Sarukui became one of the go-to players to switch out for the regulars by second year, and he was a regular by third year.

And he'd known since first year that he liked Komi.

Mori frowned at present, indicating his toss timing was smooth, and sent the ball over Sarukui's head to Bokuto. There was no beating the chemistry Bokuto—or, really, any of the other regulars—had with Akaashi setting, but Mori could still make a team run like a well-oiled machine. The uptight guy just needed to learn to smile when they got a point.

The others, including Washio, cheered Bokuto on and gave high-fives, but Komi was the only one to elbow Sarukui in the ribs and bump his hip with the spiker's…although, given the difference in their heights, Komi's hip bumped Sarukui's thigh. But Sarukui didn't tease him about it. There were times to tease Komi Haruki, and there were times not to get something started.

Mostly, in the three years they'd known each other, Sarukui didn't bother teasing Komi. They'd swapped friendly jabs for a time at the start of first year, but Sarukui recognized so quickly, so early on, how much he liked the guy fast becoming his best friend that he lost interest in teasing too much. There was a small fear nestled deep within him that going overboard with their mischief might expose him, but…honestly? He wasn't sure that fear resided in him anymore.

They were halfway through third year already, and Sarukui was no longer set on hiding his feelings.

That said, saying something to the libero was easier said than done. Sarukui preferred blocking Akaashi's feint alongside Washio—a much easier task than acting on his feelings.

It was subtle, but they saw Akaashi scrunch his nose up at the failed dump shot, and Komi howled with laughter not far behind Sarukui and Washio, because it was rare to see Akaashi fail. Though, in the event that any of them encountered Akaashi in a university setting two years from now, it was a nice thought that Akaashi wasn't infallible.

The practice match went on, and Sarukui didn't let his musings distract him from the game. He appreciated, even, the several tosses Mori set to him in a row. Each spike was a reason why Sarukui knew he hadn't acted on his feelings yet.

Their friendship. _**Smack!**_

Komi's vague interest in pretty women who weren't Shirofuku or Suzumeda. _**Smack!**_

Komi's focus on volleyball before other things. _**Smack!**_

The libero's tunnel vision for anything aside from volleyball when it came to determining whether he had one last growth spurt left in him. _**Smack!**_

Stunningly, Komi's hotheadedness wasn't an issue. As far as Sarukui was concerned, Komi could yell his rejection at Sarukui all he wanted, because Sarukui knew they'd still be friends in the end. Or, he figured that'd be the case. But it was confusing. Once thoughts of "Ah, Komi would like to borrow this magazine/DVD" devolved somewhere along the way to wishes that they'd go to the movies and make out in the dark, Sarukui wasn't entirely certain he could tease apart friendship and something more; they blended too well in his head.

His Team B teammates heartily smacked him on the back for the successful kills, only one of which got returned (the last) in time for Washio to push it over. Washio gave him a thumbs-up at that.

At the end of the day, Team B won by three points—mostly thanks to Bokuto's sheer determination to show off in front of Akaashi since they weren't on the same side for once—and Yamiji-sensei commended them for their efforts. "Thought you started to get tired after all those spikes," the coach gently teased Sarukui, but pride shone in his eyes, behind his glasses.

"I might get my stamina up to Bokuto's level someday," Sarukui stated after a respectful bow of his head.

They glanced to where Bokuto slung an arm around Akaashi's shoulders and then tried lifting the setter up bride-style—no easy feat since Akaashi was having none of it and stood stock still like a dead weight.

"Never mind," Sarukui added. He didn't have to look to know Yamiji-sensei wore a resigned expression in reaction to their star players. The old man was So Done™ with Bokuto, and he wasn't alone.

Komi was zipping up his jacket by the storage closet when Sarukui left the coach's side, and the libero handed his friend's jacket to him. He shook his head at Bokuto's antics. Once upon a time, he would've guffawed or grinned, but the charm of Bokuto's nonsense had mostly worn off by now. "Bokuto's lucky he's so good and we all like him too much to get rid of him," Komi said.

Sarukui got one arm through his jacket and snorted. "I wonder if his parents have ever said the same thing."

The shorter boy laughed and shook his head. "That's so mean…! I'm so proud…!"

"To be my friend? Because my wonderful wit is thanks to my parents' tender, loving care." He grinned, a smile that could be identified not from the marked curve of his upper lip but by the twinkle in his brown eyes. It was only a small stretch to give his parents all the credit; there was also his childhood nanny and the house staff who had done their best to give "the young master" a normal childhood, complete with their own brands of discipline and sass.

Komi laughed again. "Oh, hey, by the way—do you have Maeda's lecture notes? I, uh, dozed off…"

Sarukui rolled his eyes as they left the gym. "Just because you'd _like_ a dedicated naptime after lunch doesn't mean you can sleep during the class right after," he chided.

"Boo. Does that mean you nodded off during Modern History, too?"

"No, I have them, but I need them, Komi. He said to expect a pop quiz tomorrow."

Komi wrapped an arm around Sarukui's waist and dramatically leaned against the taller boy's nearer arm, rubbing his head against it. "Oh, heavens! Whatever shall I do?!" He pinched Sarukui's waist before withdrawing his arm and grinning mischievously. "Guess I'll just have to come over to your place."

Sarukui snorted again, knowing he'd have to locate his phone first thing once they reached the clubroom. "Then I'll have to text Muna-san about laying out another place setting."

* * *

It was as if Mother Nature snapped out of her stupor and caught up with her work overnight. The ginkgoes were finally their brilliant gold, so warm they were nearly orange. Even the yellows of the maples were maturing.

But Sarukui paid the trees little mind Saturday afternoon when he left school. He'd grabbed the schedule changes Yamiji-sensei had left for the boys' volleyball club in the faculty room after the half-day ended, and he made a point to read and reread them as he passed by his friends and teammates in the hall, some having snapped up a copy, too, others on their way to do so.

Despite his courage about no longer hiding his feelings, Sarukui had to admit that didn't make it any fun to people-watch his team.

Akaashi folding up the schedule changes in the faculty room and slipping them into Bokuto's pocket like a helpful spouse.

Suzumeda in the hallway, on her phone, talking in a soft voice to the person on the other end of the line, her blue–gray eyes lit up.

Yotaka, a sourpuss cable of making uptight Mori look chill, coaxing a smile from Mori on their way to grab the handout.

Konoha suggesting all the places—with an emphasis on karaoke—he and Shirofuku could go to kill time.

At least Onaga said "bye" and Washio tipped his head to Sarukui when he passed by them at the shoe lockers, the first year waiting for his fellow middle blocker.

It was rather stifling to be surrounded by people in love (if they even realized it) who weren't doing anything about it. Worse still, it made Sarukui feel sorry for himself…for half a minute before he realized how dumb that was. He _knew_ he was in love with his best friend, and he _was_ ready to do something about it.

He stepped outside and squinted in the afternoon sunlight. He slid his eyes to the line of maples—pale orange and darkening, nearly the right color—on either side of the school's front steps and found it easier to look outside with the leaves filtering and softening the sun's intensity.

As if summoned, Komi appeared by his side, the crunch of the gravel beneath his worn sneakers giving him away. He peered up at the trees, too. "Looks nice," he said. "I wonder how long they'll be around."

Sarukui looked down at the other teen, his eyes lingering on the tousled locks, never making it to the buzz cut underneath. But it was a stalling tactic, albeit an unconscious one, so he tore his gaze away. "Forever," he replied, "unless they're burned."

Komi groaned and gawked at his companion. "Saru, please. I meant the color. The trees are always gonna be there." He finished with a decent impression of the dry look Washio often gave Konoha when the blond was especially exasperating.

His stomach tightened and twirled pleasantly at Komi's words, even though Sarukui probably could only take them at face-value. Sarukui opened his mouth—the words were _right on the tip of his tongue_ —but then…a gust of wind sprinted over the school grounds, messing with their hair, pushing Komi into Sarukui, their blue-and-white striped ties smacking them in their faces.

The libero grabbed Sarukui's arm to steady himself, and he grumbled. "Crap. Think if I pedal fast enough, we can get home in one piece between the gusts?" He smiled when Sarukui chuckled in response.

Gods. Blocking one of Akaashi's feints really was easier than telling Komi his feelings.

* * *

"The leaves are really beautiful," Komi said to Sarukui after practice two days later. It was an echo to Sarukui, of the start of the conversation they'd had more than a week ago, in the morning, when Komi had come to pick him up for school.

Except now they were bundled up in sweatpants over their shorts, club jackets zipped up all the way to their chins, scarves wrapped warmly around their necks and, in Komi's case, shoulders. Both boys had their hands stuffed in their pockets, as well. The contrast made Sarukui grin behind his black scarf. "It's autumn," he repeated. "They're supposed to be, eventually." Though, as he said it, it struck him as odd to bother watching the leaves as they descended the stairs to the clubroom, not because it was dangerous to have their eyes elsewhere while on steps but because it was darker out now than it had been at the same time last week.

"Yeah, but September's gone," Komi pointed out behind Sarukui. He took three quick steps to position himself beside Sarukui once they were on the ground. "We won't have the time to appreciate it once we're occupied with the prelims."

True. Even before the Spring High prelims, Sarukui knew they'd be busy with practice matches with other schools, most notably Nekoma. That's what the schedule changes had declared, at least.

They headed for the bike racks, and Komi unlocked his cherry-red ride. But he didn't hop on. Not yet.

"Komi?"

The libero shook his head and gestured to the tree line out front. "Nah, we can delay a couple minutes." His smile was small and brief, and Sarukui wondered if perhaps Komi thought all the times Sarukui had been tree-gazing recently were out of a genuine fondness for the event.

Well, he wasn't exactly wrong. But that wasn't the whole story.

They stood up straight, and Sarukui let his gaze idle amongst the maples. In the daytime, the color still wasn't quite there, too vibrant an orange…but, in the dusky light, they were perfect, a rusty orange Sarukui had loved since first year. He was glad Komi had made them stop and take the sight in.

So Sarukui leaned down and kissed Komi's cheek while the latter was absorbed in the scenery, too.

Sarukui straightened up and did so rather quickly, because he wasn't prepared for the look of surprise on Komi's face. From the flat line of his lips to the stillness of his facial muscles to the roundness of his widened sepia eyes to the usual arch of his full eyebrows—Sarukui hadn't been expecting that.

They'd still be friends in the end, of course. Right?

Sarukui swallowed a lump of fear—wasn't that thing supposed to be nestled somewhere in his chest? Or, no, it was supposed to have vanished! Because he wasn't scared anymore!—and looked around. But, wherever he looked, there were leaves and leaves and more leaves—and it weren't as though he could look at Komi either. Wherever Sarukui looked, there was that rust orange. The color of autumn. The color of Komi's hair.

After what felt like half an hour but truly was only a minute, Komi, stock still, murmured, "That wasn't supposed to be a first kiss, was it?" His voice was quiet, but there were no winds today to interrupt them, so Sarukui heard.

The wing spiker gritted his teeth, suddenly glad he wore a permanent smile and didn't have to put the effort into faking one when Komi looked up at him at last. Though, the longer his friend regarded him, the more worried Sarukui became over Komi seeing through him. So much for having no fear.

For the first time in his life, Sarukui debated the merits of running away—

—but Komi crossed off that option when he reached over the bike to yank Sarukui's scarf, pulling the taller boy down to kiss him on the lips. He kept Sarukui there long enough to imply he meant this as anything but a consolation prize, grinning against the surprised smile forming on Sarukui's lips. Then he released him and walked his bicycle out of the stand. "Because _that_ is a first kiss," he announced triumphantly, nonchalantly. His grin was wide as he looked over his shoulder at Sarukui, cheeks flushed from the chill in the air or maybe from adrenaline. "Also a confession. Ready to go home now, Saru?"

**Author's Note:**

> XD Yay! This ends exactly where I wanted it to end, and I think I pretty much kept angst out of the picture. Saru almost slips in the last scene, when Komi's processing the cheek smooch, but otherwise he was a good boy, bucking up. :3 I love Fukurodani SO MUCH, and I got to expand a bit on my hcs for Sarukui's fam as well as drop mentions of my owl OCs. :D The imagery in this fic was important, and I honestly do associate Komi's hair color with fall—it's the perfect color! And it inspired the fic's title, too; "komorebi" is a Japanese word that doesn't translate well into other languages, but it roughly refers to sunlight that filters through trees/trees' leaves. All the leaf imagery…you'd almost wonder if this ought to be a Seijou fic. ;P Anyway, I enjoy writing their friendship and dropping hints of other ships, but BOY do these two give me trouble. I ship them so much! I love their love! But writing them and drawing them is so? Difficult? For me? AGH. They are the least easy owls for me to write and draw, but I don't love them any less. My goofy birbs. ;w; But, srsly, Sarukomi…there's so much to read between the lines of their dialogue as the story goes on; Komi was dropping hints, Sarukui. XD Also, Komi wins for the fic for that final scene, *lol*.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please review! Check out my other [HQ!] fics, too, if you liked this! Looking for more Fukurodani from me? HAVE I GOT IT IN SPADES~!
> 
> -mew-tsubaki XD


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